


Sleep with Me?

by rainftw



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: But make it fluffy, Jogerweek2019, M/M, Smut, Soft Boys, rogers just in love leave him be :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 16:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21057623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainftw/pseuds/rainftw
Summary: Roger's tired. John is lovable.





	Sleep with Me?

**Author's Note:**

> shameless wednesday smut anyone?

Roger doesn’t know if he’s been this knackered, quite frankly, _ever_. After seven shows back to back, not a day to spare his sore, aching muscles, no recovery time. It’s been rough. Not that he’d change it for the world, but rough nonetheless. He was absolutely _aching_ and _yearning _for a comfortable bed to sleep in, yet here they were, on a train, hauled off somewhere else, to play yet another gig. At least they’d have a couple of days off this time. His muscles relaxed slightly at the thought. A generous gust of air slipping past his lips in contentment.

The train started rolling forward, he let himself bask in the sensation of being in a moving vehicle. He’s always found it relaxing, his parents never letting him live down how he fell asleep as soon as they put him in a car. Late night drives a nightly mission in the Taylor household. The rocking rhythm comforting, like no other. Like _almost_ no other, his mind provided. As he caught glance of John’s profile, leaning against the window. His skin looking so smooth basked in moonlight, Roger’s heart gave a harsh tug in his chest. Fingers burning with a deep need to touch.

He resorted to resting his head against the younger boy’s shoulder instead. His collarbone poking the soft padding at the apple of his cheek, a bit uncomfortably. Roger couldn’t imagine a place he’d rather be. As John’s arm came up to wrap around his shoulders, his breath caught. When his thumb started stroking patterns at the nape of his neck, it positively stopped. Muscles relaxing that bit further. His whole being sinking into John’s warmth.

And he was content, he _was._ But he was also needy, when he’s had a taste he just wanted more and more and more. Until he was wrapped around John, breathing him in, _tasting _him. Not being able to do those things almost frustrating him to the brink of tears. Not necessarily out of pure greed or horniness, but the utter closeness and frayed nerve endings. Experienced with the _right _person. There was something overwhelming about it. Being completely dependent and acutely aware of one another. He squeezed his thighs together. John wrapped his other arm around his upper body and tugged him closer. So synchronised, the tears were closer to spill than ever.

He kicked his shoes off and put his legs on the edge of his seat, towards the long corridor of the train carriage. Whole body turning so he was facing away from John, but pressing completely into him. Indulging his tactile sense. His head fell softly down onto John’s chest, hands coming up to play with the brunettes fingers, splayed upon his own chest, kissing his calloused fingertips gently. He felt the contented sigh escaping John’s lips, his sore heart suffering even further.

He shifted his head, ever so slightly, ear pressing tightly to John’s clothed chest. His heart thumping away ever so gently behind his ribs, reverberating throughout Roger’s skull. This time he _did _cry. John didn’t ask any questions as he felt the wetness against his shirt, just letting one of his fingers come up to stroke the skin of Roger’s under-eye. Softly, as if he was the most precious thing on the planet. In complete _understanding_. Before he drifted off, a kiss, so light he almost didn’t feel it was placed upon the crown of his head. He has never been so close to someone, yet felt this touch-starved, in his entire life.

When he awoke, it was slowly. Head fuzzy, confusing the contents of his dream with the input of reality. What was most palpable though, was how comfortable he was. John’s steady heartbeat still sounding in his eardrums, like the most wonderful, serene record, on repeat. The heat of the others body, radiating through clothes, big ring-clad fingers, tracing circles into the slight swell of his lower abdomen. Roger was positively _purring_.

When he awoke for the second time, the train was pulling into the station. He rubbed the remnants of sleep out of his eyes, a bit too roughly, only making his sight worse. Every bone cracking as he stood up to grab his suitcase and head out into the cold night air. At least the night was peaceful. The sky clear somehow, seeming almost black, making the stars glow even brighter. He fell asleep rested against John’s shoulder in the taxi.

The third time he awoke, it was to fingers gently stroking at his scalp, soft murmurs of his name against the shell of his ear. The lips caught against the fleshy lobe and Roger couldn’t hold back the shiver running through him. He lifted his head, slowly, and with all the willpower he could muster, meeting John’s eyes, looking black in the darkness of the night. Beautiful. Roger didn’t know how much more his heart could bear, the ache pressing and overwhelming at this point. Throat closed to the point of genuine concern.

“In we go.”

Roger didn’t realise how much he needed to hear that voice until that second. Stepping into their shared hotel room, past John who was holding the door open, dropping his suitcase on the floor and making a beeline for the king sized bed. Almost moaning at the sensation of soft cotton sheets against his rough skin and aching joints. His headspace apparently leaving him tongue-tied, resorting to just making grabby hands at his boyfriend to voice his needs instead. John _chuckled_. Roger placed a hand against his own chest, to soothe the persistent ache lingering there.

He squealed as John came around the bed, making sure to squeeze his foot for good measure, before crawling up to rest his body beside Roger. Close enough for heat to emit, yet not touching, Roger felt tortured. Until a millisecond, a millisecond too long might he add, later when John’s arms came up to cradle him close, right hand splayed over his jaw, the tip of his middle finger reaching all the way to the back of his neck. The shiver running through him was deep, and full-bodied.

“Hi.” Roger croaked out, dumbly. John looked at him like he’d hung the moon, and all the stars in the sky, with utter fondness.

“Hi, you.” He replied with a glint in his eyes, breath ghosting against Roger’s lips. Eyes locked onto one another. Roger’s hips gave an involuntary roll. His heart swelling along with his dick, probably even more, at the feeling of John’s slight erection pressing against his own. For him. It made him giddy, even after a year of getting to touch the body pressed against him.

John tucked a stray blond strand behind his ear, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against Roger’s awaiting lips. Just letting them rest together, a firm, familiar pressure. Pulling away far too soon, leaving Roger breathless all the same. His dick straining against his jeans, which needed to be off right this instant, preferably ten minutes ago. John, surely being able to read his mind, started unbuttoning them. Kissing along his legs as more and more skin was revealed.

John’s tender touches up his bare legs, coming up after having peeled his unbelievably tight jeans off them, making his whole body burn. His every nerve ending alight, responding to even the most minuscule of touches against his skin. He was glad John managed to pull his own pants off in the process, because Roger wasn’t even sure he could if he tried. His hands far too shaky. He was glad he had enough strength to splay his palm out over John’s ass, as he came back up and slowly ground his hips down. Squeezing at the soft flesh, annoyed at the extra fabric of his underwear covering it. Shoving his hand beneath the waistband to reconnect his hand to John’s bare skin, as their lips reconnected.

This kiss was wetter, hotter and somewhat rougher. But no less loving, utter raw adoration being displayed in John’s licks against Roger’s bottom lip. In Roger’s slight nibble at John’s. Roger could almost cry again. He almost did as John moved to straddle him, the pressure on his groin making his breath stop and stars blurred his vision. John’s wet, swollen, lips trailing down his throat making him whine. He’d be embarrassed, if he couldn’t feel his boyfriend smiling against his pulse-point. A moments pause in his suckling on the sensitive skin.

“John, _please_.”

He was fully aware that any other night John would have teased him, for being so needy. Tonight, he just seemed to comply. Getting both of their hard erections out of their boxers and pressing them together with a single, big hand. The sight of it making Roger’s mouth water, he really did love John’s hands. Because they were nice hands, or because they were attached to the love of his life, he couldn’t pinpoint. It didn’t matter. Not with him giving a languid stroke upwards, pressing the sensitive head of their cocks together. Roger’s toes were already curling.

“Love making you feel good,” a firm stroke “my Rog,” a thumb stroking gently over the head of his cock “Mine.” The last word spoken with care and awe, much more than the possessive tone it could’ve easily undertaken. Roger overwhelmed to the point of speechlessness. The quiet, so unlike him, but with John it was _different_. He showed his affection in actions, instead. Interlacing their fingers of John’s free hand and resting them next to his head. John’s elevated pulse pounding against his fingers, as well as his dick. His own picking up alongside it.

His breaths picking up with John’s quickened pace around them, their combined arousal making the slide slick, filthy and achingly nice. He was going to come embarrassingly quickly, he knew that. His whole body was on fire, lower back arching on its own accord, hips rolling sloppily into John’s loose grip. Roger really didn’t need any dirty talking to help him get there, but John was nothing if not generous.

“Let go for me, come on my hand. Please. You look so pretty.” John’s words are bordering on persuasion. A bit breathless with how obviously quite close he was, as well. Roger has never felt this long of a buildup in his life, his orgasms usually hitting him like a freight train. Forcefully punching the breath out of his lungs. This one dragged his breath out torturously slow.

Roger came, and came, and came. Delicious waves of pleasure coursing through his veins time and time again, fraying his very nerves, his groin almost feeling heavy with it. He’s spasmed in pleasure before but he was sure he was visibly just, ever so slightly, vibrating beneath John right now. Eyes rolling into the back of his head with the intensity of it. He never wanted it to stop, he uttered as much as he started to come back to his senses. Deliriously blinking his eyes open to find a blissful looking John, still stroking his softening erection against his own, swollen nearly-there one.

It was overwhelming, almost to the point of pain, the overstimulation making tears gather in his eyes and clump together in his generous eyelashes. Yet the sight was intoxicating and he couldn’t find it in himself to bat John’s hand away before he, too, tipped over the edge. With Roger’s nimble fingers running circles into the soft skin behind his ear. Soft whimpers escaping his plush, red bitten, lips. Hair sticking to his forehead in a light sheen of sweat. Roger wouldn’t be surprised if John sprouted white feathery wings right that instant, so beautiful he looked.

Roger voiced as much when John reached a hand out to cup his face, wiping a drop of his own come from his lips with his thumb. It should be disgusting, usually requiring a snide comment, yet the action was so tender Roger was sure he’d evaporate. The urge to suck John’s finger into his mouth too strong to ignore, as if inventing a new form of expressing affection. If the gentle smile John shot his way was anything to go by, he understood.

“I do really, really, love you.” Roger almost whispered.

“You too.”

Roger felt a laugh almost successfully slipping past his lips, he repressed it though. Settling for a dopey smile instead, not wanting the sweet moment to end, the palpable adoration in the air too nice to let go of.

“You too, what?” He asked instead, interlacing their fingers and placing them flat over his thumping heart

“I really love you, silly git.”

If John felt his heart pathetically speeding up against their hands, he didn’t comment on it. Roger was grateful, he didn’t think his cheeks would appreciate more blood flowing to them than was already present.

“Sleep with me?” Roger mumbled sleepily, rubbing his thumb over John’s knuckles

“Thought I already did?” John replied, _oh so immaturely_, yet Roger found himself snorting quietly, wanting to commit the crows feet around John’s smiling eyes to memory. The gap between his teeth so adorable Roger didn’t know how he didn’t _squeal_.

He smacked him gently across the arm instead, “Silly boy, you.”

John just stuck his tongue out at him, licking his cheek for good measure. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.” Mumbled against Roger’s throat, the hot breath making him shudder. The kiss pressed against his pulse point feeling suspiciously like _home_.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

**Author's Note:**

> keeping up the, end every title of joger week with a question mark, trope.


End file.
